Singing the Lonely Blues Only For You
by rapturemelancholia
Summary: Grace Jackson, a former medic in the Korean war, pays her best friend a visit in the infamous prison Alcatraz. There, she meets Lucy Sengupta and they become friends. In a twist of fate, Grace becomes one of the 63's.
1. Chapter 1

_The piano is not firewood yet_  
 _But a heart can't be helped_  
 _And it gathers regret_  
 _Someday you'll wake up and feel a great pain_  
 _And you'll miss every toy you ever owned_

 _You'll want to go back_  
 _You'll wish you were small_  
 _Nothing can solve your crying_  
 _You'll take the clock off of your wall_  
 _And you'll wish that it was lying_

Firewood, Regina Spektor

* * *

 **1952, Korea**

Grace was gazing off into the thick shrubbery of the forest, not noticing that her father was approaching. She was too deep in her thoughts that she didn't hear when her father called her name.

"Grace, are you listening to what I am saying?" Her father snapped. He tried to keep his voice down to not alarm the other soldiers.

Grace blinked, confused. "I'm sorry, father. I was lost in thought." She still had her back to him, not feeling like facing him at this moment. Her father had always been strict. He had been the same since Grace was a child. The untimely death of her uncle seemed to only make her father worse.

"You can't be dreaming in the middle of a war. There are more wounded coming in and I need you to care for them."

Grace stood up quickly and faced her father's piercing eyes, "Any severe injuries?" To her relief, he shook his head. They had already suffered great losses and she didn't want to add another soldier's name to the list of dead men because they didn't have enough supplies.

Her eyes scanned the wounded soldiers, her eyes finally locking with blue ones. She approached the soldier and saw that he was quite young. He had suffered a gun wound to his arm and it had been wrapped poorly with bandages in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Sitting down on her knees, she said, "Let me take a look at your arm." Her lips twitched in a poor attempt to smile.

He smirked, "I'll let a peach like you take a look at me any day."

Grace raised a brow, taking the opportunity to examine his features. His hair was a dark-brown curled mess and she had to admit he was quite good-looking. She shook her head at him and hid a smile as she began to undo his bandages. Blood had soaked the whole sleeve of his jacket. "Can you take off your jacket, please?"

The soldier winced as he took off his jacket. The wound was relatively clean, but it still had to be cleaned with alcohol in case any bacteria had found its way into the wound. She hummed and went over to the supply bin. "I'll have to clean your wound before I can bandage you up." She said over her shoulder as she rummaged through the box. "There we go." She said silently to herself as she caught sight of the glass bottle of alcohol.

"So how did you end up here?" He asked curiously as Grace began cleaning the wound, "I mean, being a girl and all."

Grace huffed and imitated him, " _Being a girl and all._ " Her eyes had narrowed in irritation. "If you really want to know, it's because I want to help the soldiers and keep them from dying."

"I guess that's a pretty good reason." He winced again as she began to apply the bandages. "So, what's your name?"

Not sparing him a glance, she said, "Grace Jackson."

"Grace." He murmured as if he was trying her name out.

Raising a brow once again at the soldier, Grace asked curiously, "What's yours then?

"I'm Paxton. Paxton Petty."

* * *

 **2012, San Francisco, CA**

Grace shot open her eyes and began breathing heavily. Everything was cold and her whole body felt like ice. "What the hell?" She whispered, staring into the darkness. The last thing she could remember was getting lost in the prison in her search for Dr. Sengupta. She was going to give the woman an earful about what they had done to Paxton.

Her hands roamed the wall as she took uneasy steps forward. She had to find a way out of here. Her hands finally found what felt like a handle, and she pushed it down. At first, it didn't budge. After a forceful pull, the handle loosened and the door opened with a high-pitched screech.

The bright light blinded her for a few seconds as she stepped out into the open. Suddenly, there were sounds all around her. The sounds of cars and people were overwhelming and Grace felt like she was on the brink of breaking down right then and there. All around her were people who were dressed strangely, cars that seemed foreign and things that she had never seen. Her pace quickened, and so did her breath. It wasn't soon before she was running. She ran until her legs couldn't carry her anymore and she collapsed on a wooden bench.

Panic stirred in the pit of her stomach as she tried to recall what had happened and how she had got into that room. Her mind was blank. Had someone knocked her out and brought her to that room? There was no pain anywhere in her body, so that was incredibly unlikely. _What am I supposed to do now?_ An uncomfortable lump had started to form in her throat. Her eyes welled up with tears and she tried to calm down.

Passerby's glanced at her as they briskly walked by her, but none stopped to ask what was wrong. It wasn't until Grace was doubled over the ground, crying hysterically, that a woman called an ambulance.

* * *

"Can you tell me your name?" An elderly woman clad in a white doctor's robe sat opposite of Grace. Her gaze was fixed on the younger woman.

"Grace Jackson."

The doctor nodded slowly. "Can you tell me what happened? The paramedics told me they found you lying on the sidewalk in total shock."

Grace hesitated. They would think she was insane if she told them that last she knew, the year was 1963. She didn't have to tell the _whole_ truth. "I was going to speak to a doctor, but I got lost. I walked for a while, trying to find my way back. That's the last thing I remember before waking up in a dark storage room." The doctor nodded again. Grace hated when doctors did that.

"Do you have any family member you want to call to pick you up?"

Grace's heart dropped. What had happened to her family? The last time she had seen them, they had an argument about why Grace was going to visit Paxton. They thought it was idiotic considering what he had done. Her father, who was at the time a 50-year-old veteran, had only snarled at her. Her mother had scolded both her husband and daughter. Her younger brother stood in the doorway, silent. "I-I don't have anyone to call, thank you." Where they all dead? What did they think happened to her?

On her way out of the hospital, a man collided head-on with her and almost sent her flying to the ground. "I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed, holding her arms to steady her. Grace didn't even have time to see his face before he was walking away. The only thing she noticed was his sapphire blue eyes and blonde hair.

Grace started walking but stopped in her tracks when she noticed an envelope on the ground. She picked it up and turned it over. It was addressed to her. It was all too bizarre. These sort of things only happened in movies. Shaking the odd feeling off, she opened the envelope and peeked inside. There was a bundle of bills, a key, and a letter. Fishing the letter out, she unfolded it.

 _Grace,  
I know you must have a lot of questions, and I'll try my best to answer some of them in this letter. I know you are wondering how you got here and what happened, but I don't know either. All you need to know is that you can't speak about it.  
The key in the envelope opens an apartment - the address is written on the back of this letter. Get there as quick as you can.  
Officially, you are dead - killed in an accident on Alcatraz. Unofficially, you're one of the 63's, along with all the inmates and the guards that were there that night. We all disappeared, and now we are coming back._

She read the letter over and over again. _We_. If they wrote it like that, they must be either a guard, an inmate, or a visitor like herself. God, all the inmates are coming back too. The worst criminals America have ever seen are walking free.


	2. Chapter 2

_Shinde ita asa ni tomurai no yuki ga furu  
Hagure inu no tooboe Geta no oto kishimu  
Inga na omosa mitsumete aruku  
Yami o dakishimeru Janome no kasa hitotsu  
Inochi no michi wo yuku onna namida wa tooni sutemashita_

 _ **In the dead morning, I see snow of vengeance falling from the sky**_  
 _ **Stray dogs howl and the sound of my Geta groaning**_  
 _ **I walk on with my eyes focused on the weight of my karma**_  
 _ **Embracing darkness, just a wooden umbrella in my hand**_  
 _ **I am a woman who treads the road of destiny;**_  
 _ **it has been long since I cast away my tears**_

Shura no Hana (Flower of Carnage), Meiko Kaji

* * *

 **1963, Alcatraz, 2 months before the disappearances**

Grace sighed sadly as she watched the prison come closer and closer. Her best friend, blinded by rage, had committed horrible crimes. Grace had forgiven him, though. She did not justify what he had done, but she could not blame him, either. He may not have been the perfect soldier in the government's eyes, but he was a good man.

"Goodmorning, ma'am." An older guard greeted, tipping his hat, as the boat reached the docks and Grace stepped off the boat.

Grace scrunched up her nose and replied, "I wouldn't call it a good morning. It's starting to get quite chilly." She smiled at the guard, "But I do hope the rest of the day is good."

"I agree. Hope your visit goes well."

 _I hope so, too._ She thought to herself. It had been such a long time since she had last seen Paxton. Had he changed much? Did he still tell those stupid jokes? And most important, did he still consider her his friend?

You had to fill out a form before you were allowed to talk to a prisoner. In the form, you had to state what relation you had with the prisoner. Grace wrote down _friend._ She handed the form to the man at the reception desk who skimmed through it. "He'll be out shortly. You can take a seat in that booth over there." He said and pointed to an empty cubicle.

Grace was beginning to get nervous. She sat anxiously and waited until he finally appeared from around the corner. At first, he looked bored and annoyed, but his expression brightened when he saw Grace. He sat down, waiting patiently for her to pick up the receiver.

She picked it up with a smile and put it to her ear. "Hi, Paxton. It's been a long time."

"Grace... Yeah, it's been what, almost 10 years? I thought you forgot about me." He murmured with a hint of sadness in his voice.

It had been 7 years since they last spoke to each other. "I would never forget about you. You are my friend and nothing can change that." She needed him to know that she didn't resent him for what he had done, that she had never thought of him as a bad person. "Is it bad here?"

"Yeah, it's bad." He didn't hesitate to answer. You could see in his eyes that he hated the place. Grace didn't know what to respond. Both of them sat there silent, looking at each other through the glass. Paxton was the one to break the silence, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Paxton." She smiled, "Can I come visit next week? It's good to hear your voice again."

He smiled slyly, "'Course you can."

 **2012**

Grace Jackson no longer existed. She had died in 1963. Though, the very same woman now stood in her new apartment, bearing the name Julia Jennings. At least, that was what her new ID said.

The first time she had entered the apartment a strange feeling had come upon her. It wasn't just that the rooms looked strange, but there was a hint in the air that something was off. She had been right. After nearly dying of fright, she was introduced to Tommy Madsen, a former inmate of Alcatraz. Grace recognized him in an instant when she saw his blue eyes. He was the one who had given her the envelope.

"How many have been caught?" Grace asked.

Tommy had the smuggest smile she had ever seen. "You mean _who_ has been caught? Petty told me all about you. We used to tease him about you when you came to visit. He got all defensive as soon as anyone mentioned your name." He chuckled as he told her. "Last I knew, Ernest Cobb shot the good doctor. She isn't dead, but she's in a coma. Your sweetheart hasn't shown up yet from what I know." He empathized the word sweetheart and that smug smile appeared on his lips again.

They sat silent for a while. It was a comfort to be able to sit in silence with someone from your own time. After some thought, Grace spoke up, "How was it like? In the prison, I mean. Was it as bad as they said?"

Tommy crossed his arms and leaned back, "It was pretty bad. I wouldn't know too much, though. I was stuck in the infirmary all the time."

Grace furrowed her brow in confusion, "Were you ill?" The man definitely did not look ill. In fact, he looked healthier than most.

"Not really, but after all the blood they took I'm surprised I'm still alive."

Grace's eyes widened. "What did they need the blood for?" She urged him to tell the rest.

"Don't know. Never told me."

Grace had a feeling he wasn't telling her all of it but didn't press the matter. Besides, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what happened in the darkest parts of that place. It was bad enough as it was the time she last was there.

The faces of her parents haunted her. The last time she had spoken to them, she had been ungrateful and rude. Now they were probably dead. What had become of her brother, she did not know. But perhaps it would feel better to not know of his fate. She hoped that he had created a good life for himself. He was still so young the last time she saw him. Only 20 years old. He had looked up to her and said that he wanted to become just like her. Grace would chuckle at his enthusiasm and say that he would be best off shaping his own future.

Having been lost in thought, Grace hadn't listened to what Tommy had been saying. He stopped speaking and studied her. The change was always hard. "Thinking about your family?" He asked, words heavy with gloom. It had been both a question and a statement.

"Yes," Grace whispered, her voice almost betraying her. "It feels awful not knowing what has happened to my family. We had an argument a few hours before..." She turned silent, as if the words she was about to speak were toxic to the air, like a name that could frighten even the toughest of men. "I didn't say goodbye to them, only slammed the door behind me." Tears had begun to well up in her eyes as she spoke.

Tommy rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. This woman didn't deserve to have her whole life change. Not like this. "If you want, I can try to find your relatives. I don't think it will make you feel better about what's happened, but..." He paused to watch her reaction. It had caught her attention and she was listening intently. "It might make it easier to accept."

"Even if my brother is dead, I want to visit his grave. It's the least I could do."

* * *

 **there aren't many fanfics for this short, but great series. I just had to write something for it before my sanity breaks down.**

 **This fanfiction is actually a rewritten piece from something I wrote back in 2012 when the series had just come out and I just want to point out that the original of this was _way_ worse than it is now.**

 **Also, for the anon who asked for a Jack/Rebecca fic; I didn't like his character that much so I will not be writing anyting about him, sorry!**


End file.
